


Dantalion Academy: The First Year

by Lambardo



Category: DreamWasTaken - Fandom, GeorgeNotFound - Fandom, Sapnap - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boarding School, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Aristocracy, Bullying, Characters aged down to 16, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Knights in Training, Language when Bad isn't around, M/M, Medieval/Minecraft AU, Mutual Pining, Nobility Dynamics, Physical Abuse, Probably more bromance than romance, Sapnap is horsefriend AU, Sexual Abuse, SkepHalo but like their actual dynamic, Slow Burn, Tagging the hell out of this part, Tournaments, Truth or Dare, boys school, but there's a whole lot more friendship fun times than abuse/non-con, dreamnotfound, not explicit but it's there, take care of yourselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:14:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29626863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lambardo/pseuds/Lambardo
Summary: Dantalion Academy, the final obstacle between Dream and the dragon he is destined to slay. Three years, till he gets his title and the rest of his life begins. Three years of tournaments, rivalries, cotillions, assignments and fistfights. The fic where Dream finds out the hard way that there are no winners in friendships, feelings, and high society.This is the Dream, George, and Sapnap get into trouble and are outstanding friends (but with swords) fanfic. *slaps roof of fic* This bad boy can fit so many tournaments, Technoblade rivalry, slowburn friends to lovers, Christmas time truth or dare, Hurt, Comfort, Fluff, Abuse, Boys kissing and fighting and being real angsty! Take it for a spin!Will be broken into three parts. First Year, Second Year, and Third Year. And when I say slowburn, I mean it. These idiots think this is just what friendship feels like. No mask, no pining from afar. Friends to lovers, and friendships are as real and important as the slash. More tags to come, more smp friends to come.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first fic in this fandom, not my first RPF, so let’s hit that disclaimer! Content creators are real people with lives and feelings, the people in this work of fiction are characters, based on the personalities and online lives of content creators. If any of the creators express discomfort with this, I'll remove.
> 
> New chapter released weekly (I hope). I've got a good portion of the first year written, so I should be able to stick with this. Thanks to hinagikuhaven for beta-reading and LightNS for providing some encouragement. :)

The brilliant clack of wooden sword on wooden sword reverberated up his arm, making the limb tingle, like the part of Dream's brain engaged in the fight. When that strike failed to connect, another came; this one was going to be a jab. There was a certain high that came from a move correctly anticipated. It was even better when he pulled off the appropriate block, though it wasn’t terribly challenging to predict the maneuvers of his closest friend. 

Sapnap huffed. His eyes darted away from Dream for a second. Dream shifted his stance. The damp, mossy earth muffled the sound of the movement, and with a scoop, he turned the jab back. They clashed again, Dream had stolen the advantage.

“Wait, Dream,” Sapnap said, eyes leaving their fight again. Dream ignored his plea, and their wasters met in three sharp whacks. Dream’s footwork was precise, measured, his strikes were blocked but he kept coming. “Look!” 

“Not falling for that, Sapnap,” Dream said, voice carrying to the stone walls which enclosed the courtyard. He always got louder when he was excited, whether he meant to or not.

“I’m not” - Sapnap feinted, ducked down and swept a foot out - “kidding.” Dream’s back hit the moss. “There’s a new kid.” 

“We’ve been here two weeks. Don’t know if first years have the right to be calling anyone that.”

“Just look.” Sapnap said, watching as one of their professors towed a new student around the cloister. 

“There’s no way that kid is sixteen,” Dream said, eyeing the rather scrawny teen. From where they sparred, he caught dark hair and that was pretty much it. “Probably just a stable boy.”

“He’s got a rucksack,” Sapnap pointed out. "And he’s headed for the dorms.” 

Dream couldn’t see above the rise of the retaining wall, propped up on his elbows in the mossy lawn. He didn’t dress like a student, Dream wanted to say, he dressed like a stable boy. 

But Sapnap was already talking again. “Besides, I heard someone say the school was taking some Viscount's bastard in as a ward.”

“A bastard?” Dream mused as he watched the boy disappear down the wing to the dormitories. “Wait, Sapnap, aren’t there supposed to be three to a dorm?”

“No, Dream! Our private room!” Sapnap whined. Dream took the opportunity to sweep Sapnap's legs from beneath him and bring him down into the dirt as well. 

Sapnap landed with a soft thump, and they abandoned talk of bastards and wooden swords in favour of grappling in the grass.

\--

“Sapnap, hurry up.” Dream popped the last of his bread into his mouth, and spoke with a cheek half full.

“You’re welcome to leave without me.” Sapnap was eating his dinner too slowly, taking care to mind his manners. It might have been because he’d been switched with a birch rod for inhaling his food at dinner the previous night, or it might have simply been a ploy to piss Dream off.

“What if he’s already messing with our stuff?” 

“We don’t even know if he ended up in our room,” Sapnap pointed out, spooning his stew rather than slurping it up like Dream had. 

“Hey Clay,” Someone along the bench called out. “If you aren’t on kitchens, you want to have a game of birds tonight?” Dream leaned forward to look down the long table for the source of the invitation. “Probably more fun than watching your grandmother eat soup.” 

There was a chorus of guffaws from two pinecones on either side of a smarmy kid that Dream had taken a rapid disliking to. “Maybe another night. Grandmother and I have plans.” 

“Just terrible manners from those boys,” Sapnap said, trying and failing miserably to imitate an old woman. He sipped loudly from his spoon and it sent Dream into a fit of giggles. Thankfully, the other first years lost interest and left the table.

“Suck-ass,” Dream murmured under his breath, when they were gone.

“Oh Dream,” Sapnap went on in his caricature of a woman’s voice. “Such a privilege it is to dine with the Duke of Somerset. Please won’t you have a game of birds with me afterwards. You really must.” 

“What is that voice?” Dream’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“Swoon.”

“Sapnap...”

“Oh goodness, I’ve never seen such massive... tracts of land.”

“Sapnap!” With that they dissolved into laughter, which delayed Sapnap’s meal even further. 

Even after he finished eating, they didn’t go straight back. Sapnap made them stop off at the library for some book he needed. Then Dream got distracted by the church cat who wanted to be chased round the steps. It was nearly lights out by the time they arrived back at their dormitory. They even passed the Headboy in his nightcap on their way to their room.

“Do you think he’s in there?” Dream whispered outside their door. 

“I don’t know!” 

“Open it, then.” 

“You open it!” 

Dream took hold of the handle, and with his limbs thrumming nervously, he pulled open the thick wooden door.

To find the curtains drawn round _his_ four poster bed. 

Sapnap started to giggle. Then quickly tried to suppress it, to keep quiet enough that he didn’t wake whoever was asleep in their room. But the harder he tried to dampen it, the harder it became to contain. 

“He took your bed!” Sapnap whisper shouted, and his arm clutched his stomach as he shook with laughter.

Dream was rooted to the floor, too shocked to even respond. Then all at once he stormed forward and tore open the curtain. 

And the boy, the scrawny dark-haired bastard, blinked up at him with an eyebrow raised. “Can I help you?”

He had an accent, a cute accent. He must’ve been from one of the more northerly states. And his face was cute too, sort of like a girls. Dream forgot how to talk. Then Sapnap’s arm came down on his shoulder and rocked him. 

“Hey roommate!” 

“Hello?” the boy responded blearily, pushing himself up with one arm from his plush pillow. 

“I’m Nick,” Sapnap replied. “This is D- Clay.”

“You stole my bed.”

“What?” The kid looked totally lost, like he’d just woken to the strangest dream. And when he said ‘what’ it sort of sounded like ‘wot’ and Dream wasn’t sure why he was noticing that. Sapnap lost himself in a fit of giggles all over again.

“How can this be your bed?” He sat up, meeting Dream’s eye. “The trunk at the end of that one is all full, and the other one is covered in stuff.” 

“Yeah, that’s my stuff bed. This is my sleeping bed.”

“Your what?” He did it again. This time ‘wot’ sounded even more indignant.

“Looks like you’ll have to sleep in your stuff bed,” Sapnap said, highly amused by the entire interaction. 

“But that one’s bad,” Dream pouted. “This one’s closest to the stove.”

“You’re a big strong man, I think you can handle it, Dream.” Sapnap went on, and Dream huffed a disappointed sigh. 

The boy in Dream’s bed reached up to grab the curtain Dream had thrown aside. “I’m going to go back to sleep now.” 

“Welcome to Dantalion,” Sapnap said, still chuckling to himself.

“Yeah, thanks.” 

The curtain fell shut and Dream felt his brow furrow. _What the hell was that?_ Sapnap snickered as he watched Dream wander over to the least desirable bed in the room. 

Most of the dorms were rectangular with the three beds along the same wall. But theirs was on the end, a stair punched into one corner making for a fat L-shape. Leaving only two beds along the wall with a large window between them and a wood burning stove at the foot. The third bed was shoved off into a skinny, poorly lit alcove. 

Sapnap was almost ready to go to sleep by the time Dream had come to terms with his fate. 

“Stop pouting; it’s not that bad.” Sapnap whispered before climbing under his covers and tugging the curtain closed.  
Dream stripped off his leather and leggings with more force than necessary. Who did this bastard kid think he was, just claiming a bed? He should have checked with them. It was so narrow on either side of the stuff bed, that Dream had to crawl from the foot of it to get in.

He settled down, feeling little of the fire’s warmth. Under the canopy, Dream thought about big, dark eyes blinking up at him blearily, and something like annoyance flared inside him.

\--

The new kid was gone by the time they got up, and Dream hoped it was because he was ashamed of stealing his bed. At breakfast, the new kid sat by himself and ate quickly. Dream noticed these things and wasn’t entirely sure why.. 

Their first class that day was Math, the new kid sat in an empty seat behind Dream. As chalk scratched against the blackboard and the professor gave his lecture, Dream leaned his chair back until it hovered just above the front of the new kid’s desk. At first he had his fingers clamped on his desk, then as he found his balance he began to peel them away one by one. The game was to get it just right so he was balanced on the back legs of the chair without any support. 

Dream held it for four seconds before he dipped back and hit the kid’s desk. The next one he held for six seconds. 

He wondered if the new kid would say anything. Would he tell Dream off for fooling around? Would he notice if Dream did better than six seconds? Dream wasn't really sure what he wanted the kid to do. But he thought he maybe wanted him to do something. And he wasn't sure why.

“Somerset?”

The front legs of Dreams chair clattered to the floor, and he looked up at the professor. “Hm?”

“Can you answer the problem on the board?” _No._ The professor knew that, and Dream knew it too. 

“Thirty three hundred?” one of the smart kids replied. Dream threw him a look of gratitude for saving his ass, but the kid was too intent on what the professor was saying to notice Dream’s thanks.

“Solving problems such as these will allow you to account for production on your lands…” The professor started up again, losing Dreams attention well before he finished the thought. Dream had never been good with sitting still. He was even worse at listening. His body wasn’t used to burning energy on a school schedule yet, so it buzzed all morning while he sat in his chair and exploded in the afternoon when it was time for combat training.

After Math came Potions, which should have been better, but since it was still early in the year, all they’d done thus far was theory. In this class, the new kid ended up in a free seat in front of Suck-ass, Bingus and Dingus. Dream kept meaning to ask Sapnap their names. Sapnap was better with the names of the little lordlings. Dream just didn’t have room in his head for such things.

He certainly didn’t have room for fundamental brewing techniques.

“What’s ebulation?” Sapnap leaned over to whisper.

“I haven’t been listening.” 

“Shoot. Wanna bully the new kid into listening in class for us?” Sapnap joked.

“Looks like somebody's already got that covered.” Dream replied, as the new kid received the third hook to his stool leg courtesy of the kid who’d been a dick to Sapnap at dinner the previous night. “Does he matter?”

“I wanna say he’s of Maidstone? Edward or Edgar?”

“Which makes him spawn of what? An earl?”

“Viscount?” Sapnap said with little confidence behind the words. “I wanna say he’s first in line though. Acts like he’s first in line.”

“Hey!” Dream whispered in mock offense. 

“One of the pair is Clement, the other is Gerrard. I heard Clement clotheslined himself straight off his horse at a knave tourney. And Gerrard is like sixth in line or something.”

“You are such a gossip.”

“It’s my damn mother and her embroidery circle.” 

“But you don’t know who our new roommate is.”

“I mean, we could ask.” 

The smarmy kid delivered a kick that scooted the new kid’s chair forward into the desk, and Dream caught a flash of anger. For a moment he was sure the boy was going to turn around and throw some biting remark at Edgar of Maidstone. 

If he had, Dream might’ve bothered learning his name. But he didn’t, so Dream made it all the way through Healing, and Grammar, and hand-to-hand that afternoon, without ever learning the new kid’s name. 

\--

After combat, they got some time to wash up before dinner, just enough to take off their training leather, and splash some water on their faces so the sixteen-year olds weren’t totally disgusting all packed in the dining hall. The combat classes were Dream’s favourite. He’d made friends with the three or so kids who might actually be competition to him in the fall tournament. As he and Sapnap joked and laughed with them over dinner, Maidstone continued to pester the new kid.

Dream wasn’t sure why he took notice. He was ninety percent sure he disliked the underfed ward of the school. And there was no point in his making enemies of Edgar or whatever his name was. But for some reason, he couldn’t seem to just ignore it.

Bits of bread caught the candlelight as they arced through the air to land in and around the new kid’s cup. The giggles of the nobles grated against his ears when they managed to get one in. But the thing that bothered him most of all was that the kid was just taking it. 

Dream’s annoyance distracted him from his meal. He ate slower than he’d meant to, so Sapnap had abandoned him in favour of a card game in somebody else’s dorm. Which meant Dream was still in the dining hall when the new kid left with his bullies. 

Dream’s venison turned to stone in his stomach.

What did he care about this kid that stole his bed? A bastard. A nobody. Cowardly, weak, pretty much pointless. 

Dream abandoned his dinner. Why was he going after them? In the dark hall, he looked left and right. He didn’t hear them, didn’t see them by the torchlight. He traced the rough stone wall with his hand half searching, half aimlessly wandering. He found the courtyard empty but for a squirrel scurrying along a branch of the great oak. His insides itched with impatience. 

Next he checked the training grounds on the east side, then the lakeshore, and the edge of the dark forest. His pulse thrummed; he was anxious and relieved at the same time. At least they weren’t stringing the kid to a tree for the night or dunking him in the lake. But if they weren’t there, where were they? What were they doing? 

Maybe he was overestimating the trio; maybe they weren’t as malicious as Dream's mind assumed. Maybe they were just dicking around, and the bastard was already back up in Dream’s bed, sleeping peacefully.

A bone-grinding crunch and a strangled gasp squashed the thought. Dream sprinted towards the church, the source of the sound. He heard low voices, a blow softened by a tunic, wind knocked from a set of lungs.

Dream rounded the corner to find the bastard with his back to the whitewashed wall of the church, one surrounded by three.

“Hey.” Three heads turned in alarm. Dreams fists curled automatically. The night took a breath.

And the smarmy one exhaled it. He loosened his shoulders, and Dream loosened his fist. Edgar offered him a half-smile, seeming relieved he wasn’t a Professor. “Hey, Somerset.” 

“Whatcha doing?” Dream asked, walking closer. His body still buzzed at the promise of a fight, but he consciously cooled it as he joined, broke their ranks, and created an opening so he could see the boy. His face was fine, but there was an arm over his stomach, and a fierce rage emanating from him.

“Talking,” one of the feebs replied. Dream decided he’d be Clement, he was big and looked like he’d fallen off a horse a couple times.

“Explaining the difference between him and us,” the other said.

“And what difference is that?” Dream asked, and he realized his voice was drifting a bit cocky, considering he didn’t have leather or a weapon. “You think three on one a fair fight, while he's clever enough to know it's not.”

“Are we really doing this Somerset?” Edgar stepped up to him. He was a couple inches shorter but built enough for Dream to shift his foot towards a bracing stance. His face twitched to a frown.

“Think you can handle three on two?” Dream asked. “Or do you wanna get a couple more guys?” 

Dream’s voice carried easy confidence, though he was kind of bluffing. He could probably win, but he’d certainly not be able to get through unscathed. And most certainly wouldn’t be able to do much for the already injured bastard he was meant to be standing up for. 

“Whatever, we were done talking anyways.” Edgar turned his back on Dream. “You know, I really thought we might've made for good friends but I guess surrounding yourself with dog shit knaves would make anyone look competent.”

“Says the bitch-baby with his burly wetnurses,” Dream countered, and Clement raised and pulled back a fist.

“You guys do realize both parties get punished for fighting.” The kid finally spoke. He sounded winded.

Dream grinned at the new kid. “I've taken lashings for shit that wasn't half as fun as punching his dumb face promises to be.” 

“My brother got banned from tournaments for fighting.” The slightly smarter one, Gerrard, warned the other two.

“Guess the ass-handing can wait till then.” Dream said. He realized he was probably going too far, over-antagonizing. That was usually Sapnap’s job. Maybe his subconscious was just filling in for his missing back-up. “Hope you’ll be able to wait that long.” 

“You'll eat those words, Somerset,” Edgar spit back. “And Bastard” - He turned his attention to the battered boy against the church wall - “I hope you won't forget what we talked about.”

The bastard didn’t respond. The bullies walked off into the night. 

Once they were gone, Dream held out a hand to the new kid, who looked up at him again with those big dark eyes, which he now noticed were framed by equally dark lashes. Maybe that was what made him look so pretty.

“Are you okay?” Dream asked as the boy reached with his left to tug himself up. His right he kept clutched to his stomach in a guarded position. “Did they do something to your wrist?”

“Tried to break it.” 

“Jesus.” Dream sucked in a breath through his teeth. “For what? Being a bastard?”

“Being his Dad's bastard.”

“Shit.” The words sunk into his bones. “You're of Maidstone then?” 

“I'm not _of_ anything.” He glared after his half-brother. “I'm the son of a mistress, nothing more.”

“And so what he beat the shit out of you for that?”

“Nah,” The kid rotated his wrist carefully testing which angles caused shooting pain and which ones only throbbed. “He wanted to make sure I didn't tell anyone.”

“You just told me.” 

“Yeah, well, I don't know if you noticed but he's a pretty massive dickhead.”

Dream chuckled. “I did notice that, actually.”

“So, if you don't mind, I'd appreciate if you could keep that to yourself,” he said. “I'd rather not be associated with his kind.”

“His kind as in highborns? Or as in dickheads?”

“The latter,” He responded, the corner of his lips twitching up in what might have been amusement. “Hating all prissy, titled pricks wouldn't get me too far at this school.”

“Nah, especially when they save your ass,” Dream said with a cheeky grin.

“Oh yeah, they called you Somerset,” The kid said as he and Dream started back to their dorm, the former wincing as some bruise decided to announce itself. “So what? You'll grow up to be a Duke or something? Doesn't mean anything if you're not the first born son.”

“I am the first born son.” Dream stated. The new kid quirked his head. He seemed like he was about to say something more, perhaps something equally insulting. Dream found himself almost wishing that he would. He liked the kid ten times more when he was shit-talking nobles than when he was taking their bullshit. “You still haven't told me your name, you know. Nor have I heard a thank you.”

“Oh thank you. You saved me.” He dead-panned, as he walked away from the church towards their dorm. Dream chuckled to himself as he watched the bastard’s back, too amused to be offended by the false gratitude. The bastard turned back to look at him when Dream didn’t immediately follow. “Coming?”

Dream jogged to catch up with him. “We're not going to make it very far as friends, without me having something to call you.”

“It’s George.” He replied. “Just George.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Dreamy! Where have you been...? Oh god.” Sapnap’s whining tone shifted when George appeared in the doorway to their room.

“Hi,” George said lamely.

Sapnap turned on Dream with a look of pure scolding. Dream hands came up defensively. “I swear I found him like this.”

“Was it that Edgar kid?” Sapnap asked, directing his concern at George. Somehow, in spite of barely knowing him, Sapnap had managed to lift his tunic so he could press his fingers to the tender spots on the boy’s thin torso. “Looks like they kept it below the neck. Pussies.”

George, for his part, looked wildly confused. Yet for some reason, he was allowing it. Perhaps it was Sapnap’s controlled deliberate touch, or George was simply too shaken to remember to resist. 

Sapnap had an eye for healing. He usually attributed it to having patched Dream up a good number of times, but underneath that was genuine interest. He knew his anatomy, could tell when something was sprained versus when it was broken. And there was this shift in his demeanor that occurred when he decided to examine you. He almost seemed… professional, until you remembered it was Sapnap.

“You know he's the bastard of Maidstone?” Dream announced as he watched his friend work.

“I believe I asked you to keep that to yourself.” 

“Sapnap won't tell.”

“Cross my heart,” he promised, as he prodded a spot that made George wince. “We're roommates, dude.”

Dream tended to the stove while Sapnap played healer, raking the ashes and adding a fat log, so it would burn slowly through the night. 

“Are you done yet?” George whined behind him. And when Dream turned around he found that Sapnap had dropped George’s tunic and moved on to the wrist.

“Yeah yeah, I know it sucks,” Sapnap said apologetically as he flexed George’s wrist back, determining the limits to his range of motion. George whimpered a little at a movement that definitely hurt.

“Is it broken, you think?” Dream asked.

Sapnap twisted it gently and tilted his head with the angle of the wrist, watching it move first one way and then the other. “Definitely fucked up, but I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Thanks,” George said, rolling his eyes at the diagnosis. Sapnap flashed him a wide grin, and finally left George alone. George twisted his hand the way Sapnap had, trying to understand how he’d come to the conclusion he’d come to. Then gave up in favor of changing clothes.

“Sucks with the tourney coming up,” Dream commented, half watching George struggle with his shirt, and half watching the fire to make sure the log caught.

“It's fine. It's my right,” George said, as he tugged his sleep shirt over his head.

“That's fine?” 

“Well yeah, I'm not right handed.” 

At first it was a smile, then the humor of it caught up to him and Dream snorted. “Ha-” Dream laughed harder, “He-” so hard in fact that he had to brace himself with a hand on the mantle, while he wheezed. “He broke the wrong wrist? What an idiot.”

“Dude…” Sapnap said, brows furrowing. “What if…”

“Yes!” Dream said, still breathless. “Don’t let him know!”

“Yeah yeah! Act all injured in class.” Sapnap went on, excitedly. “And train with us in the evening!” He turned to Dream, wearing a matching smile.

“Then absolutely crush him in the tourney!” Dream finished triumphantly. He and Sapnap slammed their hands together as the plan coalesced. “Oh my god, the look on his face. George, you have to do it.”

“Captain Sturgess won’t give you a potion for it,” Sapanap added. “So you just sit out a couple weeks then exact your vengeance!”

George rolled his eyes. “Fine, but only if it'll make you stop shouting about it.”

Dream and Sapnap discussed George’s training regimen until all the candles had been snuffed out and they were ready for bed. George had been under the covers for a while, supplying only grumbles when they tried to include him in the conversation. Dream was the last to bed. The room was cozy, with the warm glow of the low burning fire and the night sky outside their window.

“Goodnight Dreamy,” Sapnap whispered into the darkness. “G’night George.”

“Night Sapnap,” Dream whispered back. He was fairly certain George was already asleep, so there wasn’t much point saying goodnight to him. But as Dream laid in bed and thought about the bastard’s clipped banter and his battered form backed against the church wall, his lips sort of moved on their own. “Goodnight George.”

He heard a quiet stir from the bed closest to the stove, and a sleepy ‘goodnight’ in response. The soft voice in the dark made his ears tingle. And Dream’s eyes fell shut thinking about the boy behind it. Then a while later, once Sapnap’s breathing had become easy and rhythmic, a quiet ‘thank you’ followed. Dream was just barely awake enough to hear it but his chest swelled up at the words all the same.

\--

Their morning classes alternated. Maths, Potions, Healing, and Grammar on one day, Tactics, Enchanting, Etiquette, and History the next; everyday except Sunday. There were four professors for the eight subjects: Sir Lazarus taught Maths and Tactics, Hamund taught Potions and Enchanting, Lady Arleen taught Healing and Etiquette. And currently at the chalkboard, in the stuffy classroom above the kitchens, was Father Fontine. Who taught Grammar, and History. On top of looking after the church.

Father Fontine’s classes were the driest. They came just before lunch-time, and seemed to drag on and on. Fontine himself was an older man, with empty blue eyes and a hollow demeanor, which didn’t help in the slightest. Dream was sat by the window, which was cracked to let the autumn air in, and with each sweep of the breeze his body grew more and more restless.

Dream decided that he hated Father Fontine’s classes the most.

His eyes rested on the back of George’s head and he made plans for how to get him strong and agile enough to defeat Edgar in as many events as possible. First he’d assess strengths, if he had any. Then identify weaknesses, of which he likely had many. Dream smiled to himself and George tilted his head as if he were glancing out the window.

Could George read Dream’s mildly insulting thoughts or did he simply feel Dream’s eyes on him? Dream smirked and nudged George’s chair leg with his boot. “Pay attention,” He whispered.

George shook his head in annoyance, and brought his eyes forward again. Sapnap didn’t notice the interaction in spite of sitting directly beside them. As he was nearly asleep, face slumped against his fist. 

George had been surprised when they sat near him in Tactics. Then he tried to ditch them in Enchanting by sitting at the front. This failed. He continued to resist in Etiquette, ignoring the pair of them. Except for when Dream and Sapnap had begun discussing the best way to convey one’s dislike for the food served at a dinner party. 

Dream pointed out that ‘technically’ there was no rule stating one couldn’t spit the offending food onto the floor, earning him a bit back grin from George. Which prompted Sapnap to state that ‘technically’ there was no rule against spitting the offending food onto someone else’s plate, earning a full on stifled giggle.

By History, he’d begrudgingly accepted their presence, while Edgar refused to acknowledge them. It was a win-win.

Dream switched his focus to the back of Edgar’s head and noticed there were similarities in hair color between the half-brothers. Both were dark like walnut wood, though where Edgar’s looked to be a uniform hue, George’s had a richer color underneath. The sun from the window was catching on a lock fallen out of place. 

Dream wanted to reach out and move it. 

George looked back again before he got the chance. He caught Dream staring and his cheek quirked up in a suppressed smile. “Stop it,” He mouthed.

Dream grinned and with both his feet nudged George’s chair a little closer to his desk.

“Davidson,” The spine in front of Dream straightened. “Can you tell me which city was burned upon the Rhodivicians arrival on the shores of Oberland?” 

George swallowed and shook his head. Father Fontine didn’t seem so much annoyed at George as he was trying to get both him and Dream to pay attention. Somewhere outside the window, the church bell rang signaling the end of classes. “Davidson, remain in your seat. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Sapnap, startled awake by the sound, looked between Dream and George, one of whom was up while the other was still seated. George threw Dream a levelling glare and Dream ushered Sapnap out of the classroom with a shit-eating grin.

“Should we wait for him?” Sapnap asked.

“He’ll find us at lunch.”

“What if he tries to ditch us again?” 

“He won’t,” Dream replied. “I think we got him.” 

\--

“You dickhead,” George greeted them. 

“What did I do?” 

George rolled his eyes. “I got a sermon because of you.”

“Why don’t you have more meat?” Sapnap scolded when he saw George’s plate. 

“I’m not that hungry,” George argued. Sapnap took a thigh off his own and placed it on top of George's pile of pickled root vegetables. “Did I stutter? Take it back.”

“Eat it,” Sapnap ordered. “You need meat to build muscle, which you will use to defeat your sworn enemy.”

“I thought you guys were joking,” George argued. “You aren’t seriously going to try and secretly train me, are you?”

“Of course we are,” Dream said. “I’m the best in our year.” 

“And I’m better than he is,” Sapnap added. 

George rolled his eyes. “Well, take back your damn pheasant leg, I’m not going to eat it.”

“You have to!” Sapnap said earnestly. And from there the conversation dissolved to bickering, with the occasional bite in the down time. Dream found that he sort of enjoyed it. The chunk of meat switched plates a couple of times and Dream lost track of it, as his mind drifted back to plans for George’s upcoming training. Until it flew over his shoulder to splat on the table behind them. 

“You guys!” Dream whisper shouted, as all three desperately tried to act natural and contain their giggles at the same time. 

“Excuse me,” said a lifeless voice from the next table. It’s owner leaned back to speak with Dream. “Have you lost some pheasant?”

All three burst, Dream clutching his stomach in wheezes, George with a hand over his mouth, and Sapnap with his head leant into George’s shoulder. 

“Ah- yes,” Dream said breathlessly once he’d regained some composure. “That’s George’s.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” The voice replied. “Because it has fallen into the jurisdiction of the second years and thus has become our property.”

The statement started George and Sapnap up all over again. 

“Techno, give it back to them,” One of the other second years pleaded.

“They should have thought of that before bombarding us with it,” Techno argued succinctly. “Let this be a lesson in projectile selection.” 

“Well, what the hell do we want with it?” Another student asked.

“Language.” 

There was a slight shake of his head from the one who swore.

“I think it makes for a nice centerpiece,” Techno said, looking at the leg fondly. “We will not be returning it.”

“That’s fine,” George said, with a wide grin. “It’s yours.”

“You should really be more careful, George,” Sapnap added, and George elbowed him in the side.

“You’re Technovic?” Dream asked, leaning back again to speak with the second year. 

“I am he.” 

“You’re supposed to use Sir,” George whisper-scolded.

“Not until next year, actually. Techno is fine. This is Badric and Skepsejev.” He said, gesturing to the two others he was seated with. 

“You placed first overall, in both tournaments in your first year,” Dream stated. 

“That I did,” Techno replied. “Caught some lucky breaks.” 

“Good to hear it wasn’t skill.” 

“Ooh!” One of the second years, Skepsejev gasped. “Techno, that sounds like a challenge.”

Dream didn’t look over at George or Sapnap. He was too intent on his challenger. One of Sapnap’s older brothers had told them about Dave Technovic, the first year that waltzed in and took first place, not only among first years, but overall, at his very first tournament. Dream had been thinking about him ever since, looking for an excuse to talk to him, to see what all the hype was about. 

But as far as Dream could tell, Technovic didn’t have anything particularly special going for him. Even from where he was seated, he could tell the older boy wasn’t extraordinarily tall or well-built. And though he was good with a sword, he was no prodigy. He’d lost tournaments as a youth. 

“It does indeed sound like a challenge,” Techno agreed. “I have become skilled though since my first year. My entire summer was spent potato farming and with these newly acquired skills, I very much doubt that I can be defeated.” George and Sapnap laughed along with the other second years. “So I wish you luck…”

“Clay,” Dream stuck out a hand. “Of Somerset”

“Clay of Somerset,” Techno finished. “You’ll be wanting to acquire as much luck you can in the coming weeks.”

Dream bit his lip and turned his back on his new found competitor. Sapnap aimed a kick at him under the table and Dream gave him a look that clearly said ‘talk later’. Sapnap rolled his eyes and they hurried to finish the rest of their meal so they could talk before combat practice that afternoon.

\--

“So, why are you antagonizing second years?” George asked as they made their way to the training grounds. The leaves were giving up their fiery colors in favor of drooping and falling from their perches, but the air was still warm enough that they didn’t bother with coats, knowing they’d work up enough of a sweat to keep the cold at bay.

“Because Dream has decided we don’t pose enough of a challenge,” Sapnap said.

“Come on, Sapnap,” Dream said, hopping down the last step, body buzzing with energy from his brief interaction with Dantalion’s finest. “Are there any first years you’re going to lose to?”

“I guess not.”

“So he not only thinks he’s best in our year, but he thinks he’s got a chance at being best in the whole school?” George asked incredulously.

“Yes.” 

And even with his back turned Dream felt George’s eye roll.

\--

Edgar seemed pleased that George had to run laps instead of taking part in armed combat training. Potions of healing existed, but they certainly weren’t used on sixteen-year-old bastards with mild injuries. 

“It’s kind of peaceful, running laps. Especially on the trails through the woods,” George said, after dinner, as Dream and Sapnap dragged him back out to the training grounds. The sun slunk low in the sky and stretched their shadows. Dream had worn his coat open and the breeze drew a few goosebumps as they passed through the castle shadows.

“Too bad peaceful trail running isn’t an event.”

George’s steps slowed for a moment as Dream and Sapnap strode ahead onto the pitch. “By the way, are we going to get in trouble for being out here?”

“Nah, Sturgess and Daddy Somerset are old war buddies,” Sapnap said.

Dream shivered. “Wow, you should never say that again.”

“Yeah… I regretted it pretty much as soon as I did.” 

George laughed and the pitch opened up before them. The great oval sat nestled against the castle wall, enclosed by stands at the top and the bottom. Then forested round the rest. Their combat instructor, Captain Sturgess, had informed them on their first day that the ground had actually been dug up and a layer of coarse gravel had been laid underneath to improve drainage. It was where the tournaments were held and where a good deal of their physical training took place, though on days when the weather didn’t cooperate there was an indoor hall that could be used instead.

“So,” Dream said, entering training mode. “There are six events in the fall tournament: Grappling, Singlestick, Equestrian, Isles, Archery, and the Hunt. Fifteen points for first, twelve points for second, ten points for third, and twenty five possible points in the hunt.”

“Let’s start with Grappling,” Sapnap said, shifting his stance and turning on George.

“Let’s not!” George cowered protectively over his injured wrist.

“Wait, Dream did you bring-?” Sapnap started as Dream fished through his coat for the item. He found it in the inner pocket, hoisted it into the air triumphantly and then offered it to George with a low bow. 

“What?” George took the flat piece of leather and turned it over in confusion. 

“It’s a brace!” Dream said cheerily. Sapnap crowded into George’s space to show him how to put it on.

“It was my sister’s,” Dream explained, “can’t remember why I took it.”

“Because you messed up your wrist jumping off a moving horse?” Sapnap supplied. 

“Which time?”

George huffed, as Sapnap threaded the straps through the little buckles “Can we skip grappling tonight?” George tested flexing his right hand. “Everything hurts and I’m rubbish at it anyway.”

“Singlestick it is then!” Dream announced cheerfully and bounded across the pitch to fetch them a set of wooden wasters from the storage shed. His heart pounded as he ran. 

There was an ulterior motive to training George. It was an opportunity to train himself harder. Sapnap did his best to keep up with Dream’s competitive drive but he could only tolerate so much sparring before growing bored. Unlike Dream, who could drill things until they were muscle memory, until making mistakes was harder than doing it right.

Dream returned and tossed each of them a sword. Sapnap knew it was coming and caught it easily. George startled, but managed to make the catch all the same. Maybe he wasn’t going to be as bad as Dream thought he would be.

Once they had wooden swords, they got to work.

Their training stretched until night came, then a little longer under the moonlight. It stretched for the next two weeks as the trees balded and the evenings got cold and then warm again for a snap. The three boys spent every night on the training pitch, or by the lakeside, or on the archery range. 

George was best at archery, Dream discovered. Sapnap had suggested that the brace might impede him but George was still lodging most all his shots in the center of the hay bale. They even set up some leaves in the hay and George managed to skewer those too. They couldn’t practice Equestrian outside of class. Which was worrisome as George had not shown much skill on a horse thus far. He could ride, but not much more.

At one point, Sapnap expressed that he was pleasantly surprised by George’s capabilities, given how skinny he was. To which George countered that he was surprised by Sapnap’s capabilities, given how fat he was. Dream let them work out the rest of the argument with their wooden swords while he drilled himself on a specific series of movements again, and again, and again.

“Dream!” George shouted, startling Dream from his near meditative state.

Sapnap had him in a headlock in the grass, one leg holding George in place, while he laughed maniacally. “C’mon George, you can get out of this. I showed you how.”

George’s hand tugged against Sapnap’s forearm that tightened about his throat. “I tapped out!” 

“Did you just call me Dream?” 

George froze up in embarrassment and Sapnap let go to laugh at him. “I meant- Clay. It’s his fault!” George said, turning on Sapnap, who was still grinning at the flush on George’s cheeks. “What even is it? Where did it come from?”

Dream shrugged and Sapnap startled giggling all over again. “What? How can you not know?”

“He doesn’t remember!” Sapnap teased.

“Neither do you, idiot.”

“I do!”

“Sapnap doesn’t remember. He won’t tell you, because he doesn’t know.” 

“I do know!” Sapnap said, sticking out his tongue at Dream then turning to George. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime but you can’t tell Dream.” 

“You’re lying!” Dream said, grinning wide. “You don’t know!”

“Whatever,” George said softly. 

“But if you’re going to start calling him Dream you have to call me Sapnap.” 

George groaned in annoyance. “Maybe I just won’t call you two anything.”

But as George helped Sapnap up to his feet, Dream caught him grinning a little to himself when he thought they weren’t looking. And Dream felt it too, like the night was a little warmer or something in his chest was. On the way back to their room Dream and Sapnap brainstormed stupid nicknames for George. All of which he staunchly refused. 

Dream was a little relieved when they settled on just calling him George. He’d grown quite fond of the name and the way it felt to say it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Technoblade is super fun. :) Also Autumn Tournament coming up!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the fall tournament! I'm going to do some edits on the first two chapters in the coming days, nothing major, mostly punctuation and some wording stuff.

“Good day! I, Sir Hardegin of Essex, Headmaster and Knight of Oberland, welcome all to the 73rd annual Autumn Tournament of the Dantalion Academy of Rosicrucianism and Knighthood!”

Cheers shook the bleachers, likely echoing all the way out to the mountains beyond the wood. Dream felt them echoing inside his chest, his pounding heart like the bass to a terrific score. The headmaster droned on about the legacy of the school, the principles and codes of honor by which students were trained and Dream tapped a foot impatiently through it all. 

George and Sapnap were on either side of him, packed in tight with the other first years along the long low bench. 

“Stop it,” George whispered, placing a hand on Dream's jittering knee.

“I wanna get going.”

“Yeah, it’s annoying.” 

Dream shifted his focus to George for a moment, noticing how he fiddled with the straps on the leather brace. “You’ve got this George.” 

“Easy for you to say. You’re excited.”

“So are you,” Dream said, reaching for the brace and snugging the strap. He acted like he was making sure it was fitted correctly but he really just wanted George to stop fiddling with it.

“I’m not. I’m nervous.” 

“They’re basically the same thing,” Dream said with a grin. And as he said it, the crowd cheered again. The other students on the bench stood, and Dream gave George’s brace a tap before standing up himself. “You better make it through the first round.”

George swallowed and Sapnap whooped as they were released onto the field. 

There were thirty first years in total, each given their starting match-up that morning by Captain Sturgess. George and Sapnap were stationed in rings near the bench but Dream was off towards the far end. His opponent: a kid named Bart, the son of some baron. The noble seemed to have little interest in becoming a knight. Dream scrunched up his nose, it was going to be too easy.

He dropped his shirt on the outskirts of the stone circle that was the ring. It was a shame he wasn’t matched with Edgar on this very first round. Dream could have knocked him out early, but that wasn’t how the brackets worked. Rather than names from a hat, Sturgess deliberately matched skilled with unskilled, so that the finals would be more interesting. 

Dream wondered if he could drop the kid in two minutes. His opponent removed his shirt as well. It landed partially in the circle, so he awkwardly nudged it back with a bare foot. 

Dream looked to the third-year that was overseeing their match. They were looking to the center of the pitch, where the straight-backed Captain Sturgess stood with a hand shielding his eyes. He had an hourglass in one fist, and a baton in the other. The baton that would ring the bell and start the match. Once he’d verified that all were in position for the first bout. 

The sun had only just risen; the grass still smelled like dew. Dream clenched and unclenched his fists, mind poised on the brink as he waited for the bell. 

“Marks,” The third year called. Dream and his opponent took a step closer.

_Two minutes._

The bell went and Dream’s head turned off.

And when it came back on, it was to a frantic tapping on his elbow.

“How long was that?” Dream asked quickly. He noticed his lungs were burning, it had taken some effort, obviously. The kid, Bart, was gasping too. 

“I wasn’t counting,” The third year reported. 

Dream hopped to his feet, looking to the center to assess the hourglass. There was still a good amount of sand in the top. He’d count that as a win. He couldn’t see George or Sapnap’s grappling matches but the Gerrard kid was nearby, so Dream watched him. Gerrard already had his opponent in some sort of lock but they weren’t tapping out. They tried to escape, but in a dumb way, and Gerrard quickly took them to the ground. 

The bell rang again while Gerrard had his knee to the kid’s spine and an arm bent back. He’d won. 

The third year’s gathered in the middle to report the winners and Dream sprinted back to the benches where the first years were gathering, while the second years filtered out into the rings. He found Sapnap first, each of them wore a grin. “Where’s George?” 

They looked around and found him walking towards them with a strange look on his face. 

“Did you win?” Sapnap asked.

George nodded. Sapnap whooped and sprinted for George. Dream jogged after with a wide grin.

“Who were you up against? Was it hard?”

“How’s your wrist? Did he tap out or did the bell go?”

George answered their rapid fire questions as best he could and the discussion devolved into rehashing their matches, until the bell went again signaling the second year matches to begin. 

Dream couldn’t see Techno so he, George and Sapnap settled for watching Badric’s match. The second year matches went for eight minutes. Badric’s opponent was much tougher than Dream’s had been. Bad impressed him by sneaking out of a few tricky holds. Enough to cheer for him when he won, which earned him a wave after the bell.

The third years went next, their matches lasted ten minutes, and were easily the most interesting to watch. Dream studied them harder than he’d ever studied his class work. The teachers presided over their matches as their performance in the fall tournament was part of their final grade, informing the title that they graduated with. 

While Dream was watching the third years, George and Sapnap went to check who they’d be up against next. 

“You’re in four with Paulsen,” Sapnap reported as he took his seat next to Dream. The third year match happening closest was captivating. It was very hard to tell who would win. 

“You?” Dream asked, distracted. 

“I’m against that Eastbend kid.” 

“George?” Dream went on. Sapnap snorted in amusement. Dream shifted his focus from the match. “Who are you up against, George?”

“No one,” George said quietly.

“What?” Dream turned his full attention to George.

“I’m uh- I’m going straight to the next round.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” George said. “There’s fifteen, an odd number, so they just put me ahead.” 

“No way.” 

Sapnap sat down, pinning George between them. “Sturgess probably did it ‘cause George is such a weak wittle baby with his bwoken wist.”

“Shut up!” George poked Sapnap in the side and Sapnap giggled in response.

The bell went, signaling the end of the third year's match. Dream had missed the end of it. “Guess we’ll see you in the next round then.”

“If you both make it,” George muttered.

“Ha!” Sapnap said as he stood from the bench and the third years began to filter off the field. He glanced over his shoulder, beckoning Dream to walk with him. 

But Dream had a different idea. “Come watch my match” 

Dream hopped to his feet and George looked up at him. He nearly smiled at Dream's eagerness. “Alright.”

Dream’s body lit up with excitement; his drive to win ignited. “Let’s go!”

George trailed him to the end of the pitch where the next bout would take place. The crowd from the cities and villages was fairly large, with a good number of nobles there to watch their sons compete. It was too far for any of Dream’s family to come. The only people he might have known would have been one of Sapnap’s older siblings that lived within a day’s ride but he wasn’t sure if any had felt like showing up. Dream certainly hadn’t seen any of them.

So his next match was really only for George. 

Dream smiled as he reached the ring. He dragged his shirt off and his spine prickled. The sun warmed his bare back. He let out a long slow breath and the noise of the crowd rumbled like a far off storm. It was only chatter but in Dream's mind it was more. Most didn’t pay much attention to first years. Dream was going to change that. One day all of them would be watching him.

But for now, he had George.

His opponent, Paulsen, was bigger than the last one. Muscled, with an eye on the crowd. Dream wondered if his father was here or if there was a lady he hoped to impress. Dream bit his lip against a chuckle. 

Shame he wasn’t going to win.

“Marks,” The third year called, eyes on Sturgess who had the bell. The crowd went a little quieter in anticipation of the ring.

It rang and at the tail end of it he caught ‘let’s go, Dream!’ 

Dream smiled. 

And Paulsen came at him. He was going for a take down, which Dream side stepped easily before shifting his back foot to brace and grabbing Paulsen under the arm for a throw

This match took longer, almost five minutes to get an arm around Paulsen’s neck in a chokehold. But Dream still managed to get a tap-out. Once it came, Dream became aware of the crowd, like waking up from a stupor. He climbed to his feet, his breath came hard, he was certainly bruised. But he found George with a stupidly large grin on his face and Dream laughed out loud when he saw it. 

“Dream! Holy shit! That was intense!” George was at his side almost as soon as the bell went, before Dream had even managed to put his shirt back on. 

“Yeah?” He couldn’t stop grinning, arm half-ways in his shirt. 

George was practically bouncing. “Yes! That throw right at the start! But then his guard- And then you- the sweep, and- do you have a bruise from that?” 

“I don’t know,” Dream said, a little dazed by the influx of warm happy stuff that flooded his chest. 

“Everyone was watching you, I swear.” George went on still eager as all hell. “I feel bad for whoever’s going against you next.”

“Could be you,” Dream said, then let out a bark of a laugh at George’s facial expression. “Let’s find Sapnap!” 

They found him by the bench. He’d been across the field from Dream. Sapnap was grinning. Dream smacked him on the shoulder in congratulations. “Let’s go!”

They ran through their matches while they watched the second years go for their next round. Badric won his match. And celebrated with cheers of “Techno!” and “Skeppy!” when his friends joined him. 

The third years generated some noise from the crowd and Dream got wrapped up in the excitement again. He and Sapnap were so focused on the action, they might have forgotten to even check what their next match was, had George not done it for them. 

“Dream, you’re against Stoker in two. I’m against Alvin in one. Sapnap’s against Gerrard in three and Edgar is going up against Clement in four.”

“Ha!” Sapnap said triumphantly, turning away from the match to shoulder Dream. “Sounds like we’re going to the Semifinals.”

“Watch his clinch.” Dream warned Sapnap casually, then turned from the fight to speak directly to George. “Come with us to the semi’s.”

George’s brows furrowed. “I don’t know Dream. Alvin’s pretty big.”

“So’s Dream, and he’s easy to take down,” Sapnap stated, earning him an elbow in the ribs.

The bell rang, and the teachers gathered to tally scores. Then Dream's feet were pounding the earth and he was reaching his ring with George and Sapnap on either side. Sapnap was thrilled. His shirt was off. There was a white band peeking out from beneath unruly dark hair and he wore a wide grin, just for his opponent.

Beyond their ring, Dream caught Edgar eyeing George. The set of his frown suggested he thought George had made it this far on luck alone. His focus drifted to friend/opponent Clement, lamenting his own less that fortuitous circumstance. Clement was bigger, built stronger. He wasn’t going to fold just because Edgar asked him to. Edgar knew he was going to lose. 

Dream wondered what that felt like, to consider a fight lost before it’d even been fought.

Finally Dream looked at George. He was not grinning like Sapnap, or grimly resigned like Edgar, if anything he looked like he might be sick. 

“Marks,” a third year called. Dream wanted to shout something encouraging but worried it would only make George more nervous. So he kept his mouth shut and focused on his own match, a match he would be winning. So he could face one of his friends in the semi-finals.

The bell clanged, and Dream’s focus narrowed to the bounds of the ring. 

Stoker was easier than the last one. Dream had a couple new bruises, but he’d still made short work of the noble nobody. Stoker was nearly in tears at having lost the match. Dream didn’t feel a speck of guilt over it. If he wanted to win he should have trained for it. 

Dream caught his breath as the matches on either side of him raged for another minute. Sapnap had the upper hand, Gerrard was going to tap soon. Clement had already beaten Edgar. George had lost his footing meaning he was pretty much fucked, though he was attempting the guard Sapnap had shown him. Then as the sand in the hourglass trickled to a point, George managed an escape. His opponent, thinking the match won, didn’t anticipate it. 

Then he did it. George turned it around. He actually won.

“George!” Dream shouted as the bell rang. His friend was panting, exhausted, wincing as he got to his feet. Then Dream was on him, shirtless, dirty and radiating heat. Dream crushed the smaller boy to his chest. It was almost better than his own win. Sapnap collided with Dream’s back and nearly knocked them to the ground.

“Get off!” George complained. “You guys stink!”

Dream pulled away, only just remembering to grab his shirt before he abandoned the ring. They laughed and celebrated on their way back to the benches. Then Dream and Sapnap began to speculate on which of them might face Clement.

“Wait…” George said, slowing down as they approached the bench. “This means…” 

“You’ll be up against me, Dream, or Meany-head,” Sapnap teased.

“Oh my god,” George said as he collapsed onto the bench. “I should have lost.” 

“What’re you talking about?” Dream said. “This is what we’ve been training you for.”

George shook his head. “This is how I die.”

“So dramatic,” Sapnap said as he took a seat next to George. 

“No, you guys are actually going to kill me.” 

“I won’t,” Sapnap said. “Dream might.”

“You might not be against me.” 

“I don’t stand a chance,” George whined. And Dream rolled his eyes before settling in to watch Techno’s next match. He continued his stubborn winning streak. Which was annoying. George refused to check who he was up against while the third years completed their matches. So Sapnap went to check for them. 

When he returned he didn’t immediately announce anything. He just sat down next to Dream to watch the pair of sweaty eighteen year olds grapple. He was doing it to make George squirm. Dream could tell by the way Sapnap grinned every time George shifted in his seat. 

“So…” Dream finally asked, when he determined George was not brave enough to. “Who are you up against?”

“Clement,” Sapnap reported with a wide grin.

“No!” George shouted. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not.” 

“Sapnap, how do I not die?” 

“I showed you,” Sapnap said with an eye roll.

“No you didn’t. He’s totally different in competition. He’s scary. Sapnap, please.” George’s pleas fell on shoulders that only shrugged in amusement. Dream smiled while his stomach twisted. It was a strange sensation, different. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. 

The bell that signaled the end of the third year's quarter finals startled George. And that startled Dream. Sapnap stood and took a couple backwards steps, eager and uninterested in watching where he was stepping. “Come on George.”

Dream got to his feet and looked after Sapnap. He was going to face him in the finals. It was something silently decided between them. And Dream was excited for it. It’d be challenging, more intense than sparring. Going up against Sapnap was always fun. Why didn’t the prospect of going up against George feel like that? 

George looked up at him from the bench. His eyes were all dark with lashes like a girl. Dream’s head jumped to George looking up at him with his back against the church wall, George looking up at him from the ground during their late-night training, George looking up at him with a huge grin, telling him how good he did in the one match he watched.

Dream turned away and the three headed to one of the two rings centered in front of the crowd. There were other first year matches taking place at the same time as theirs, battles for sixth, or for eighth. But the semifinals had most people's attention. Dream stayed while Sapnap and George jogged to the far side, but before they parted Sapnap snagged his arm. Dream watched as Sapnap said something to George, something that made his mouth flatten and his eyes flick to Dream. 

“Telling him my one weakness, Sappy?” Dream shouted.

“You mean your many weaknesses?” Sapnap called back, before nodding to George and heading to his own circle.

“How you feel, Gogy?” Dream said, hoping the cockiness might disguise the fact that Dream couldn’t figure out how he, himself, felt.

George let out a steadying exhale. And the third year called ‘marks’ before he could respond. Dream dropped his shirt but couldn’t seem to shed the conflicted-ness. 

The bell went and Dream's head was still on. He stepped into the ring and his body was trying to take over but the movements were slowed by his brain. He went for the first hold. He had George but before he could bring a knee up, his mind stalled. George had a bruise there. 

And in the stall George escaped. Taking two nervous steps back. 

_Who cares if you hurt him? Just win._

Dream’s stance shifted for a takedown. His hands were on George and he consciously tried to picture Techno, Stoker, that stupid Bart kid, some opponent that wasn’t George. It worked.

Until it didn’t. George was underneath him, panting, flushed, squirming. George shifted and Dream’s body immediately moved to bring an arm up to crush his windpipe. His head was filled with George’s frantic breaths. He couldn’t see his face though. He tried to pretend it was Sapnap. He tightened as hands scrabbled at his forearm.

But it was George, his rough breath. Dream almost loosened, but he needed to end it, end it so that he could get away from the bastard and the pit in his stomach.

George tapped out. Dream looked up at the third year who said something about the bell. Dream flopped back onto the ground. More exhausted than he’d ever been in his life. Then he heard George giggle and start to laugh, just as out of breath as he was. Dream brows furrowed, then his face was forced into a smile by the sound.

“What’re you laughing about?” Dream said. Spirits tentatively lifting. Shouldn’t George have been pissed at him? “You lost.”

“But it was fun,” George gasped. “That was your worst match, by far.” 

“It was not.”

“You only won cause you had the upper hand when the bell went,” George said, “and you hesitated on the choke.” Dream was only dimly aware of the analysis of his performance in the match. He was too busy smiling at the simple fact that George still seemed to like him. George got to his feet and held out a hand to Dream who was still on his back. 

Dream took it.

He stood up and found George with sweat on his brow and dirt on his cheek. And Dream thought then that George maybe wasn’t so much like a girl after all.

He and George turned to Sapnap’s match to find him doubled over panting with Clement eyeing him angrily enough that Dream managed to guess how the fight had gone. He and George jogged over to Sapnap who straightened to meet them. Dream clapped him on the back.

“Ow,” Sapnap said with a wince. 

“That tough?” Dream asked, as the three left the field to make way for the second years. “Yeah, Clem is fucking mean.”

“Language,” Badric scolded as he and Skepsejev passed them. 

Dream turned to watch them head for the two main rings, not seeing Techno. He should have been there; he’d won his last match. George and Sapnap kept on and Dream overheard Sapnap teasing George over how hard his third-place match with Clement was going to be.

Dream turned back and nearly ran straight into Techno.

“You’ll be needing that fifteen, if you want to keep up.” Techno said.

“You haven’t even made it to the finals yet.” Dream challenged and the competitive part of him that’d been cowed by his match with George flared up again like it had never left. 

“My victory is assured.” Techno said with that same cold dead tone. “Grappling is not something that Skeppy excels in.” 

“Techno, stop trash talking me to the first years!”

“Can it really be called ‘trash-talk’ when it is a fact?” Techno called back and jogged on, past Dream. Skeppy’s indignance meant Dream couldn’t get the final word in. Which bothered him. It also meant he’d have to actually get those fifteen points. Dream ran off after his own friends with renewed determination and found Sapnap rolling his shoulder.

“You good?” Dream asked as he watched Sapnap’s face contort in pain. 

“Just pretend I’m George, and be nice to me in the final.” Sapnap said. 

Dream rolled his eyes, not bothering to dignify the comment with a response. There was no need to check who they were up against so the three just sat on the bench and rested until their next match came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been experimenting with what day I want to post on. I might try putting the end of the tournament out Monday, just to see what happens. I got a lot of engagement on my Corpse/Sykkuno one posting every other day, but I would catch up with myself way too quick if I did that. Lol. 
> 
> First time writing combat (and tournament brackets) and I know I skipped over some matches, but I only wanted to go into depth on the most exciting ones. :) Let me know what you thought!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Testing to see how posting on a Monday goes. :) I'll stick with a schedule soon, I swear. I haven't noticed a significant difference in engagement between Fri, Sat and Sun but I feel like with a fic like this I gotta prove that this is gonna be a real slow-burn by putting out chapters. So here's Fall Tourney part two! Also, I realized this is only the end of day one and there's still a whole second day to the tournament. 
> 
> Me: six events.  
> Also me: why are there so many events? 
> 
> Oh well! Enjoy-

Dream’s win in the match against Sapnap was unsatisfying. Sapnap’s shoulder was messed up and there was nothing he or Dream could really do to make the fight fair. So Dream took first, leaving Sapnap with second. George had lost his match, meaning he’d come in fourth. Both Dream and Sapnap masked their disappointment at the unfair final fight by congratulating George on doing as well as he had. 

At their midday meal, they overheard Techno celebrating his win with Skeppy and Bad. Dream wished he and Sapnap were trading playful insults rather than whatever they were doing now. A glass clinking distracted Dream from his thoughts and he looked up to the front to find the headmaster tapping a delicate looking knife against a pewter goblet.

“Attention!” he called. “I’d like to commend each and every one of you for your performance today. To compete is to bring honor not only to your house, but to Dantalion Academy itself. Please raise your cups.” - Dream reached for his drink, which was sitting already filled before him, and raised it. - “And rather than a toast, I urge you to drink all from your cup.”

Most students followed the instruction and downed their drinks. Dream hesitated.

“Each of you have been given a small amount of healing and regeneration to invigorate you for the upcoming single-stick event. Good luck in this and enjoy your meal!” With his work done, the headmaster sat back down and waited for the food to be served.

“Dream…?” George noticed Dream still looking down at his full cup. 

He raised his eyes and met Sapnap head on across the table. Sapnap’s mouth quirked up in something like a smile and he shook his head. Did he know that Dream was considering offering his portion up to his vaguely injured friend.

“Just drink it, idiot,” Sapnap said, smiling properly. “I’ll see you in the single-stick finals for a rematch. If you make it that far.”

Dream downed his drink in a couple gulps. The potion buzzed faintly like storm-charged air under his skin. The fine blonde hairs of his arm lifted and with them the disappointment.

\--

“Let’s go George! You’re amazing!”

The afternoon had turned hot. George lifted his tunic to wipe sweat from his brow and when he looked up he was grinning wide. 

“Semifinals!” Sapnap shouted as he crashed into George, who’s wooden waster dropped from his loose grip upon impact. Dream picked it up and waited for Sapnap to release poor George from his sweaty embrace. 

“Who else?” George asked breathlessly. 

“Edgar,” Dream said.

“Sturgess is going to split you two.” George said, rolling his eyes up while he forced his tired brain to figure out what that meant. “So I’m up against one of you for sure.”

“Better hope it’s Dream ‘cause I’m not going to go easy on you,” Sapnap teased. 

Dream handed George his fallen sword and they made their way back to the bench. Alcohol was starting to filter through the stands and the crowd was getting a little rowdier, while the sun subdued the actual competitors. George didn’t stop at the bench. He went straight for the match-up listing, too curious to discover his fate. Dream silently prayed that he wouldn’t be up against George again.

His prayer was answered.

Sapnap cackled with delight at the news that he’d be up against George. While Dream quietly thanked the creator for the opportunity to smack Edgar around with a wooden sword.

“Dream-” George started to whine as he sat down, only to be interrupted by Sapnap calling out a particularly impressive play by a third year. They got so wrapped up in the match unfolding before them that their own snuck up on them.

The first year matches were called and the trio rose from the bench with the others, making their way out to the rock-lined rings in the hard packed earth. 

“Just go for a clinch on his left,” Dream murmured to George, loud enough for Sapnap to hear. 

“Shoulder’s fine, Dream,” Sapnap called over said shoulder. “You’re actually going to have to try this time if you want those points.”

Dream chuckled, and he and George carried on to the far sides of their respective circles. Edgar appeared on Sapnap's side, once again looking positively disgusted that George was even breathing so close to him. And Dream’s blood lit up with remembered anger. 

Edgar shifted his focus off George to the crowd. Dream wondered if Edgar’s father was in the audience, _George’s father_. Sapnap was going to win against George. At least, that was the most likely outcome, which meant that if Dream won this fight, then George would go up against his half brother in the match for third and fourth. Dream badly wanted George to knock Edgar down a peg in front of their philanderous father.

And to make that happen, he simply needed to win this match. 

Dream flicked his wrist and his sword spun in the air to land back in his hand. It wasn’t a useful skill. It was merely a trick he’d spent a summer perfecting because it was fun to do and looked kind of cool but it got Edgar sneering at him instead of George.

“Somerset,” Edgar grimly acknowledged as the third year calling their match raised their hand and called for marks.

“Maidstone,” Dream said before bowing his head in the customary greeting of his opponent. He bit his lip to prevent himself from grinning as he raised up again. He’d been waiting weeks for this.

The bell rang and Dream finally let the grin come. A fierce clack of wood on wood sent a reverberation up Dreams arm. Edgar’s opening attack was one designed for steel, which didn’t have so much bounce as the wooden swords they dueled with. Dream parried and Edgar moved into a basic logical continuation.

Dream parried again and hopped back a step, drawing Edgar towards him. His head was empty but for the eager drum of his heart. Edgar attacked, weapons clashed, Dream landed a thwack to his opponent’s thigh. Edgar winced, briefly angered by the pain and lunged. Dream took a step back. Edgar’s weapon glanced left, and another hit landed, this one on Edgars sword arm. It would’ve been a tendon sliced had their weapons been steel. It infuriated Edgar. He lunged again, and it was such a basic move that Dream parried without looking. Instead, he stole a glance at the ground, determining himself to be far enough back-

-To begin his counter. Dream’s struck precisely, following the routine series to the letter, until at the last moment, he deviated. He changed the rhythm, hesitated, so that Edgar wasn’t quite properly braced. Dream did it again and again. And with each, he stepped forward no matter how Edgar parried. It wasn't the fastest or easiest way to win, it was the most annoying. Edgar landed a bruising smack to Dreams body; it didn’t deter Dream in the slightest. The cacophony of sword on sword grew louder. Still, Dream drove him back. Edgar’s posture broke, his defense frantic, he struck Dream low on the hip, and Dream had won.

With the waster to Edgar’s throat, the third year called a yield. Dream stepped back, sweating, panting, and grinning. 

He turned to check George and Sapnap’s match. It looked like it had ended well before his. They were both smiling. When he looked back, Edgar was gone. So Dream jogged over to join his friends.

“Who won?” He gasped, pissing Edgar off had left him out of breath. 

“Sapnap,” George said with a roll of his eyes. 

“Should’ve eaten more meat.”

“Hey, Maidstone was looking at the crowd,” Dream reported, eyeing George carefully, unsure of how he’d take the information.

“Yeah, he got here a little while ago,” George glanced into the crowd, perhaps to verify that the Viscount of Maidstone was still in attendance. Then started off toward the bench with Dream and Sapnap on either side. “It’s not as if he’s going to say anything to me.”

“What? So he just pretends that you don’t even exist?” 

“His wife’s here,” George pointed out as another reason his father wouldn’t be acknowledging him. George hesitated like he wanted to say more. 

Sapnap opened his mouth and Dream shot him a look that shut it again. 

George's face scrunched up in a mix of annoyance and confusion and he took in a breath. “I actually don’t... get him,” He admitted. “He paid for mum’s accommodation for a couple years after I was born, until she managed to marry. But I always assumed that was out of guilt. Then earlier this year, when mum passed and her husband realized he could finally put me out on the street, this Viscount who never said a word to me before, just shows up and basically bribes Dantalion to take me.”

George reached the bench and flopped down with the furrow still tightening his brow. “Like what’s he playing at? I don’t… understand.”

“Sorry about your mom,” Dream said, nudging George’s shoulder and drawing him out of his reverie.

“She was sick for a long time,” George said, eyes unfocussed. “I think that by the time she was gone I’d already gotten used to the idea of it.”

A quiet fell between the three of them as they each lost themselves in thought. Dream’s chest got heavy. He sort of wished that George had never mentioned his mother passing.

He turned his mind to George’s question to distract himself, but couldn’t find an answer to it. He couldn’t say why the Viscount of Maidstone had arranged for George to train at Dantalion. Did he consider George, or his half-noble blood, too noble to live as a peasant but not noble enough to be acknowledged.

Dream drank from a water skin, and shifted his thoughts to George’s upcoming match against Edgar, suddenly wanting even more for him to win. To show his father… what exactly? Dream wasn’t sure but he wanted George to show him something. 

“You’ll have an edge on Edgar cause you’re left handed,” Dream said. “But he’s probably realized that by now and might compensate.” 

George fiddled with the straps on the wrist brace as Dream spoke, not able to turn his mind from his thoughts quite as easily as Dream could. 

“Your wrist still bugging you?” Sapnap asked, eyeing the brace.

George shook his head. “Nah, I just feel like I’m doing better with it on.” 

The second and third year matches flew past, as the three of them discussed how George might win against Edgar. In the back of Dream’s mind, he registered that Techno was doing well and he needed to take first to keep up with him but it didn’t really fire him up like it once had. Their turn came and Dream trotted out to the ring behind George. He realized that he and Sapnap had completely forgotten to trade insults prior to their rematch. They were so preoccupied with George’s duel that it just hadn’t happened.

This time Sapnap was in the far position but Dream wasn’t looking at him. He was watching Edgar approach. He was bigger than George, a few inches taller and out for blood. Just as Dream read his lunges and strikes in their match, he could now see Edgar’s irritation clouded around him like a visible aura. Maybe Dream shouldn’t’ve riled him up. 

He turned to Sapnap, and in his friend's dark eyes he saw his own thought reflected back at him. 

_No bullshit. Wrap it up quick._

They both wanted to catch the tail end of George’s fight, if they could. This is what they’d been training him for after all.

Marks. Bell. Dream turned his head to the fight at hand. 

It was fun, Sapnap’s attacks simultaneously impressed and infuriated him. They were brutal and Dream caught the edge of a grin when a particularly angry blow came down. ‘You said we should wrap it up quick’ he seemed to say with his aggressive strikes. 

Dream shifted his back foot, and countered ass if to assert that he was still planning on winning. The fight was hard. Every blow was designed to end the fight, nothing was saved for their next attack. No tricks, no careful footwork, no trying to outlast one another. It was settling a score as efficiently as possible, nothing like their usual duels. But it was still Sapnap, and Dream could win against him.

So he did. 

Dream managed to get his dull blade to Sapnap’s throat with a minute and a half to spare. Sapnap yielded, huffed a sigh and turned to the duel playing out beside them. 

Edgar fought as Dream and Sapnap had but without control. He was not fighting hard against a friend, he was fighting hard against a bitter enemy. It was violent like he didn’t even care about the yield. He just wanted George to hurt. Dream winced at a particularly nasty jab at George’s shoulder; one that most certainly would have pierced the clavicle, had the blade any tip. Instead George merely bit back a cry at the blunt force trauma.

George was tired. Edgar had been toying with him. It was hard to watch. Dream and Sapnap had never practiced like this with him. All their training focused on turning back clean hits, or defending attacks directed at vitals. Neither of them had ever come at him with the sole intent of injuring him, as Edgar was now. Dream’s hand tightened on his waster. His body recognized Edgar’s next move before his conscious mind did. Because it was the same series he’d used, a series that culminated in a blow to George’s thigh. Dream felt George’s harsh exhale of pain, in his own lungs. Edgar took it farther, he flicked George’s sword out wide and his foot collided with George’s chest, sending him into the dirt. 

Dream almost shouted. There was no rule against it but kicks in single stick were uncommon. In a real sword fight, it was akin to asking to have your leg shredded but with wooden swords there was no chance at losing the limb, so Edgar went for it. 

George’s leather hit the dirt and Edgar’s sword touched his Adam's apple. 

The third year called a yield but the dulled point stayed jabbed into George’s neck. For a moment, it looked like Edgar wanted to drive it forward rather than remove it. 

“I guess sucking Somerset’s cock only gets you so far,” Edgar sneered.

Dream found both of Sapnap’s hands on his arm before he’d even realized he’d raised a fist. He was a whole lot closer to Edgar than he remembered being as well. Dream turned to Sapnap, who’s eyes were black and serious. 

“Don’t.”

Dream looked down at George and remembered there was some rule about fighting. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was as his ears were thundering with rage. He wrenched his arm from Sapnap’s grip and reached a hand down to George. 

Edgar smirked and turned his back on them. Dream’s head pounded, then George’s hand was in his and he sort of startled awake.

“Sorry I didn’t win,” George said softly. “Guess you guys kind of wasted your time with me.”

“Shut up,” Dream bit back. George winced. “Uh- shit, I mean- it wasn’t a waste of time.”

“We never trained you for someone who fights like an asshole,” Sapnap said. “But starting now, we will.” George gave a small smile as Sapnap’s fingers unworked the laces on the leather at George’s side. “Are you okay? How many hits did he get on you?”

“I- I don’t remember.” George gasped in pain as Sapnap squeezed his shoulder where Edgar had jabbed him. “Think they’ll give us anything before Equestrian?” 

“Doubt it,” Sapnap responded. “You can still ride a horse with bruises.”

George groaned. “C’mon, let’s watch Bad and them, they’ve been doing good.” He shied away from Sapnap’s touch and tried to get Dream’s attention by brushing past him on the way to the bench.

Dream exhaled slowly, trying to reign in his pounding heart. 

Sapnap followed after George, who was looking back at Dream with concern. “Just give him a sec,” Sapnap murmured.

It was unbearable. His hands shook with it. He felt like a hurricane and a flimsy storm shutter all at once. He regretted snapping at George. He could sense George’s bitterness at having lost to Edgar, he could feel how George’s confidence faltered. George was sinking into his failure. He walked quieter, receding into himself. Dream watched him shrinking and was furious that there was nothing he could do about it.

His stomach tightened with something that might have been hunger and might have been bloodlust. He sometimes couldn’t tell the two apart. If it was hunger, then it was probably feeding his rage. 

“I’m going to walk,” he announced to no one in particular. 

“Go steal something to eat from the kitchen,” Sapnap ordered, “and don’t be late.”

Dream waved him off and headed towards the lake. He could feel George’s worried eyes on him and Dream felt bad he couldn’t provide any comfort but staying would only put innocent bystanders at risk. He sulked round the castle, taking the long way to the kitchens. Then when he poked his head in to ask for a meat bun, the head chef nearly took it off. ‘Three times a day,’ he ranted, ‘I fill your bellies, you know how much food I need to feed a hundred gluttonous mouths? Mountains! As if that’s not enough, the headmaster wants to wine and dine these nobles for donations.’ 

A girl slipped past Dream and deposited a bun in his open palm. Dream slowly backed out of the sweltering kitchen and made his escape. Distantly, he heard the chef switch targets and continue to rant. The lecture darkened his spirits further but the freshly baked bun undid much of the damage. 

After it was gone, there was still a lingering urge to throw his fist into that smug Maidstone’s face but it was manageable. And for some reason, Sapnap’s voice popped up in his head to say that he’d piss off his horse if he tried to ride it angry.

Dream distantly noted he needed the Equestrian win to beat Technovic. That was all that should have mattered, not George and Maidstone and angry kitchen staff. Dream never even really thought George would win. He only wanted to help George so that he could get Sapnap to train more with him. 

It wasn’t about George. It was never about George.

It was about winning.

Dream tried to convince himself of this as the sun drifted down 'til it was only a couple fingers above the horizon, 'til he needed to start back. The rage was less potent. He hadn’t actually lost his mind, like he was sometimes prone to do. He tried to give himself credit at least for that. He didn’t get banned from tournaments- thanks to Sapnap. So there was that.

\--

He spotted George and Sapnap in the pasture by the stables but ducked inside to check out the horse he’d be riding before joining them. _Amity_ was the horse’s name. He found her being brushed down by the second year that looked after her. Dream introduced himself to both and then went out show his friends that he was all better now.

They stood with Badric and a chestnut quarter horse.

Sapnap spotted him first and nodded his head. Dream smiled back sheepishly. George noticed him next. 

“Were you not even going to mention that you won?” George asked and like the last of the windfall apples, the anger was shaken loose. “You and Techno are tied, both at thirty points.”

“Couldn’t have done it without Sapnap,” Dream joked, nudging Sapnap’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks.”

Dream hoped Sapnap understood that his thanks were for much more than the win. It was for stopping him from doing things he’d regret, for tolerating losing, for tolerating Dreams tantrums, for ordering him to get food, and showing George how to leave him alone so he didn’t do any more damage than he’d already done.

Sapnap stuck his tongue out. “Take the L on this one and we’ll call it even.”

Dream grinned. “You’re probably going to win anyways.” George’s brow furrowed as he looked between the two. It was probably the first time he’d heard Dream admit that Sapnap might win at something. “Horses like him.”

“Horses hate me,” George responded. 

“Not Lucy,” Bad cooed into the little white diamond on her face. “She loves you, George.” Bad handed George the reigns, and George looked up at the horse apprehensively. “You guys should probably find your horses. I think they’ve nearly got all the jumps set up. Plus George needs to do a couple laps with Lucy to get acquainted.”

“Yep,” The horse’s great head swung close to George and he flinched in surprise. “You and me are about to get real acquainted, huh?”

\--

Amity was the polar opposite of Dream. She was shy, cautious, and wanted his approval for whatever reason. As he lined up with the other first years, Dream was nervous. He tried to hide it from her, of course, (Sapnap always said the horse’s felt bad when you got disappointed with them before they’d even done anything) but he only had one shot at this. His win rested on Amity’s broad bay shoulders. 

Fences and jumps were set up on the pitch. The students had been given a chance to walk the course and plan their route but the horses had never seen it before. Dream hadn’t spent enough time with Amity to determine whether she’d trust his judgement.

Dream looked over at Sapnap on his smoky black mount. He could see Sapnap whispering to it. Dream almost opened his mouth to call attention to what should have been ruled as cheating. George was talking to his horse as well but that wasn’t the point. George could ask not to be bucked off all he wanted, Dream could beg Amity to make her every jump, anyone could talk to their horse, it was only a problem when Sapnap did it- because when Sapnap did it the horse listened.

There was a bell and the first contestant rode out into the ring. As this was the only Equestrian event at the fall tournament, it was simply referred to as Equestrian but in reality it most closely resembled a hunt jumping event. Meaning the jumping style was the most important feature. There were faults for refusals, for knocking a rail and for a multitude of other variables that Dream desperately wished he could control but ultimately couldn’t.

George’s run went better than expected. Dream suspected Lucy was responsible for that more so than George. 

In spite of Dream’s nervousness, he felt like he’d done better than George but he couldn’t be sure. Amity tried very hard but that didn’t mean she’d done perfectly. Dream patted her neck anyways hoping it would soothe his nerves as well as reassure her. 

Sapnap’s turn came and his run was flawless. 

Dream was so impressed he almost grinned but remembered to scowl by the time Sapnap came around. 

“Sapnap, that was good,” George said, as Sapnap passed them to bring his horse over to the astonished second year who cared for it.

“Thanks,” Sapnap called back with a cocky, lopsided grin aimed directly at Dream. From behind them, Dream heard the second year marveling that the horse had gone an entire run without a single refusal.

The sun was just kissing the horizon as they handed off their horses to the second years and went in search of the posted rankings. They found them where the match-ups were listed for the earlier events.

1 - Nicholas Kincaid of Rivers  
2 - Clay of Somerset  
3 - Gerrard Ossine  
4 - George Davidson  
5 - Edgar of Maidstone

“Suck it, Dream,” Sapnap said casually. 

“Would’ve been a different story if we were on our own horses.”

“Doubt it.” A woman’s voice responded and they turned to find a lady in a cream colored dress. She was young, pretty, with dark curls tucked into a floral hat. 

“Lin,” Sapnap’s face broke into a wide grin. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to it. Dream caught a look of complete and utter astonishment on George’s face and choked on a laugh.

“His sister,” Dream managed and the dawning understanding on George’s face was almost as funny as the shock before it. Dream sucked in a quick breath and dipped his head to greet her. “Lady Linnea.”

“Clay,” She responded, lifting her skirts in a lazy curtsy. 

“And this is George,” Sapnap introduced. 

“You were on that chestnut mare,” Linnea commented. “Someone who knows how to ride her is certain to take first.” 

George flushed and Dream had to actively bite his tongue to keep from laughing out loud at him. 

“Where’s the earl?” Sapnap asked. 

“He’s getting the carriage ready. We’ll be heading out soon.”

“Will you be by tomorrow?” 

“Probably not,” Linnea said with a gentle frown. “We’re entertaining some guests but I’m not too fussed. I got to see my brother take first which was what I came for.” 

“Glad I didn’t disappoint.”

“Would’ve done even better if you were on Shoey,” she said. “I can’t believe they only house forty-odd horses for all the students, it’s absurd. You should do more equestrian events. You always do so well at them.”

“Well, I’ve got my other studies now.” 

“I suppose,” Linnea looked over her shoulder, perhaps having heard her name called. “Write if you need anything and visit if you can.” She pressed a kiss to Sapnap’s cheek and he scrunched up his nose in response. “All my love.” 

“Thanks for coming.” 

“Of course. Lovely meeting you, George. Be nice to my brother, Clay.”

“Always am!” Dream called out, as she walked quickly away. George’s eyes followed her as she went and Dream smiled at the fact that George hadn’t managed to utter a single word to her. “So George…” 

“Dream, I swear to god...” Sapnap began. 

“What’d you think of Sapnap’s sister?”

“She seems nice.” 

“I thought we had an agreement,” Sapnap said. “Ever since-”

“I just asked George what he thought,” Dream said innocently. “I haven’t broken any terms.”

“What’s the agreement?” 

“Sister’s are off limits.” Sapnap eyed Dream pointedly. “Dream was actually the one who suggested it in the first place.” 

Dream scowled and George quickly changed the topic to avoid any further teasing. “Why do you have a surname if you're of Rivers?”

Sapnap turned his attention from scowling back at Dream to answer George’s question. “My mother is of Kincaid. Her father had no sons so my brothers are heirs to both Rivers and Kincaid.”

“Oh weird,” George replied, for a moment it looked like he wanted to ask something more. “Wanna go watch the second years?”

Sapnap shrugged and together they went to do just that.

The third years finished as the sun set on the first day of the Autumn Tournament. Dream didn’t really pay attention to individual rankings though. He was more focused on the second years. Bad and Lucy had taken first, as Linnea predicted. Techno got second, meaning he and Dream were still tied.

There was another small dose of healing potion at dinner but it did little against the exhaustion. The headmaster even commented that his favorite dinners were these, the ones that came after long days, in which conversation was peaceful and plates were practically licked clean. Washing up was the most taxing part of the day. All Dream could think about was bed, which was unusual for him. So he hurried through his scrubbing and walked into the room while George was changing. He noted the bruise to George’s shoulder was nearing yellow, indicating the healing potion was probably fading the others. 

But Dream’s stomach still managed to briefly twist with guilt at the sight of them. 

George quickly pulled his sleep shirt on and turned to Dream before he could crawl into bed. “How many siblings does Sapnap have?”

The question sort of surprised him. He thought maybe George would complain about his tiredness or his soreness, or that his mind might be on Edgar, as Dream’s was. 

“Two older brothers, then Lin, Sapnap, and two younger sisters.”

“Wow,” George said. “Does he get on with all of them?”

“Pretty much.”

George was quiet for a moment, lost in his thoughts. The stove’s hinges creaked as Dream opened it up to tend the fire inside, sensing that there was more he wanted to say but waiting for it to come as he was learning he needed to do with George. 

“So the eldest son will inherit Rivers.”

Dream nodded. “And the second son gets Kincaid.”

_And Sapnap get’s nothing._ It didn’t need to be said but it hung in the air. Dream suddenly realized why George had asked him about Sapnap’s family, rather than Sapnap. 

“I think Edgar hates me because I’m older,” George said. The fire crackled and sparked like it was as irritated as Dream over the way their world worked. 

“Sapnap doesn’t hate his brothers,” Dream said quietly. 

“What’s going to happen to him after this?”

“He and I are going to explore,” Dream replied, smiling as he gazed into the flames. “They say there’s a dragon at the end of the world. I’m going to slay it.”

“You’re first born though,” George said. “Won’t you have to be the Duke of Somerset?” 

“Someday, yeah,” Dream said, stepping back from the heat, and the burning desire to do more than lord himself over some farms and peasants. “But there’s stuff I need to do first. You should come with us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is Sapnap a horse whisperer instead of a horse murderer? idk, this is my head-canon. Let's ride.
> 
> Why did I give Sapnap so many siblings? Because it's my party and Sapnap will have middle child syndrome if I want him to, lol.
> 
> Why is Dream so rage? adhd baby! 
> 
> And on that note: Dream will continue to struggle with anger and (hopefully) grow to learn to deal with it. This is not to say all people with adhd struggle with anger. It's just that Dream has talked about having adhd and also about struggling with anger, so I wanted to include it in his character. I consulted a friend with adhd for some parts but that doesn't mean I got it right. If you have adhd and you feel like I got something wrong, or like I could do something better, let me know. 
> 
> Similarly if you are a bastard, a horse-whisperer, or a middle child you are also welcome to let me know if my portrayals weren't quite right. Thank you for reading! See you next week!


End file.
